Placing himself in an angular position on the thwart, with his right hand hold of the seat, he began to row with his left. While pulling alone in the canoe, as the negro rowers called the smallest craft, he had been inclined to protest against the accepted custom of going backwards in rowing; and he would gladly have adopted the mechanical contrivance in use on some of the Northern waters which enabled the boatmen to pull while facing the bow. He wanted to see where he was going without turning around, and he had practised rowing in this position.
Deck was heavier and stronger than his cousin, though hardly as agile. Artie took the stroke from him, and it was quite as quick as he cared to row on a long pull. They kept good time, and the boat went along as rapidly as before.
"Now light your match, and start the fire, Artie. We shall lose no time by this arrangement, and we shall get back to the house before morning."
"Perhaps, after you understand the nature of the enterprise, you will not be willing to go with me," added Artie, looking earnestly into the face of his cousin.
"I can tell better about that after I know what it is," returned Deck, reciprocating the earnest gaze of the other. "But it is you who are wasting the time now. Why don't you come to the point without going around all the buildings on the plantation?"
"You heard the story mother told about the arms and ammunition Uncle Titus had bought for the Home Guards in order to make himself the captain of the company?"
"Of course I heard it," and Deck was unwilling to say another word to increase the preliminaries to the revelation.
"Did you believe it?"
"I did."
"Then you are satisfied that Uncle Titus has a lot of arms hid away somewhere in this region?" persisted Artie.